


Sharing a Bed

by TheMetaphysical



Series: 7Prompt Generator Series [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Again lol, Angst perhaps, Jealousy, M/M, i watched twilight while i was writing this, markson, see if u can catch my reference, this sounds so much like my other markson fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-25 13:27:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMetaphysical/pseuds/TheMetaphysical
Summary: A not so regular night as roommates.





	Sharing a Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I live and die for Jackbam but I would kill for Markson. ;-;
> 
> in honor of aries season, think of Jackson in the most aries way possible while reading this

Mark was more the 'suffer in silence' type. He was good at keeping things to himself, it was really the most comfortable way to live. But  _ this secret _ was uncomfortable to keep. Keeping it in made him act out and do irrational things. He ignored Jackson, and he bullied Bambam and Jinyoung, and they all let him because he was older. Mark didn’t want to be this way, but he couldn't help it. He wished they would tell him off, put him in his place, do anything that could get his mind out of this funk, but they were bound by the culture and weren’t so willing to talk to him like that. And everyone would just have to put up with those irrational things, because he  _ never  _ wanted to tell anyone this was happening to him.

At practice, Mark learned the choreo fastest, along with JB and Yugyeom. Bambam, Jinyoung, Jackson, and Youngjae were all struggling with the last few moves. Mark tried his best to pay attention to the conversation Yugyeom and JB were trying to have with him, but he couldn’t stop burning holes into Jackson. It started off as just lust a year after they debuted. It would be there sometimes or it would fade, nothing too serious, nothing that he couldn’t handle. Recently it had returned and with a vengeance. Now, Mark was spending most of his time jacking off in the shower and wishing he could be anyone else on earth other than himself.

Mark was particularly on edge today. He had already jacked off twice this morning and felt he could go again right now. He was so distracted he couldn’t see Bambam fall and come tumbling straight towards him. It stung his forehead when Bambam headbutted him, and he glared daggers at Bambam, enough to make the whole room fall silent. But instead of react like a normal person, Mark left the room.

Mark had cooled down outside and had been wearing his headphones the rest of the day to draw his attention elsewhere. He needed to apologize to Bambam, but he couldn’t talk to anyone right now without exploding. It didn't help that Mark and Jackson were rooming together. Mark spent most of his time these last few weeks writing lyrics on the roof of their dorm building until he  _ had  _ to sleep next to the person causing all his grief.

He had just jerked off in the shower for the billionth time before bed in the hopes that it would relieve some of his stress, but it all returned when he made eye contact with Jackson who was already in the bed flipping through a magazine. Just like every night, Mark turned to face the wall and concentrate very hard on pretending he was alone in the room. But Mark reached his tipping point when he felt a hand slide past the waistband of his basketball shorts and smooth over the curve of his ass. “Whoa, man!” He was almost yelling as he whipped around and grabbed Jackson’s violating wrist.

But Mark was stopped in his tracks, whatever other insults he would say next disintegrating when he saw how unapologetic Jackson was. He was calm, controlled, his face an inch away from Mark’s. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t frowning, just laser-focused on Mark.

It was intimidating, scary almost how little he cared about Mark’s reaction. Mark gulped internally, gathering up his wits to threaten Jackson again, but he was finding it really difficult. Where could he look? His intense, mesmeric eyes? His tempting, pouty mouth?

“What?” Jackson’s voice was low, daring, sensual. He spoke like he had done nothing wrong.

“You’re touching my ass!” Mark hissed with only half the confidence as before.

“So?”

So?  _ So? _ “So don’t touch it.”

“Is that what you really want?” Jackson challenged a smirk threatening to appear.

Mark was flabbergasted. What was Jackson on tonight? Of course, Mark wanted him to touch his ass. Mark wanted him to touch way more than that too, but Jackson had never shown any interest in him before. And a random ass grab wasn't a good enough reason to blow his cover. 

“Are you  _ high _ ?” Mark whisper-yelled, bewildered.

“You know I’m sober just like I know that you want me.”

Mark’s frown fell and his heart started beating rapidly, hoping Jackson wasn’t about to call him out for behavior he thought he had hidden well.

“Relax,” Jackson murmured, smoothing a hand across Mark’s chest. Mark’s eyes followed his movements, and he was doing everything but relaxing. 

“I know the way you look at me when we’re dancing, when I’m changing. How jealous you get when I talk to someone else, how much you deny yourself, and how much you actually  _ do _ want me to touch your ass.” He moved closer into what was left of Mark’s personal space, until he was talking right over Mark's face, the force of his breath hitting Mark's mouth. “Just like now. I know you’re angry with yourself and me.”

Mark was frozen, immobile, and guilty for being immature, but he couldn’t help it. He was possessive and jealous and petty and concupiscent. And he couldn't deny any of Jackson's allegations, because he knew they were true. Mark continued to be sucked into the void of Jackson's brown eyes, pitch black in the darkness, never wavering from his own eyes. He was helpless to watch the object of his affections subject him, and it almost upset him. If Mark wasn’t so desperate for what little hope he held in this situation, then he would have punched Jackson from embarrassment.

Jackson's hands slid back into Mark's shorts to hold his ass again, and Mark made no move to stop him. “Tell me,” Jackson urged, squeezing Mark's ass and staring him down.

“I want you.” Mark whispered, succumbing.

Jackson smiled, “me too.” He kissed Mark, softly, slowly, dominating the kiss while still encouraging Mark, coaxing him into aggression. And it worked.

Mark bloomed, reaching across the distance to hold Jackson’s face as Jackson pressed warm, close-mouthed kisses against Mark’s pleading lips. His hands were shaking, his lips trembling. Mark couldn’t believe it was actually happening. He was finally finding peace after believing it to be impossible for so long.

“Mark,” Jackson exhaled, his teeth pulling Mark’s bottom lip with him, disconnecting, then reconnecting their lips. Mark’s verve was hardening. His grip on Jackson’s face moving lower to grope his shoulders, his neck, his chest. Jackson’s delivery was no longer enough, so Mark finally put his desires into action, licking, biting, nipping, sucking, smacking against Jackson’s lips, feeling every single part of Jackson’s mouth. As good as it was, it was all too much, too fast. Mark was still apprehensive; all of the events leading up until this second were happening too quickly for his brain to process, and before he realized it, he was crying. Jackson felt the tears as they kissed and pulled away to look at Mark.

Mark chased Jackson’s lips as he pulled away, then fell back against the pillow when Jackson had propped himself up above Mark. The sound of their breathing filled the room. 

Jackson was being uncharacteristically silent, but still communicative. The paralyzing gaze he was giving Mark was him demanding an explanation. And although Jackson didn’t have to say anything, Mark knew he wanted an explanation for everything.

Mark swallowed loudly. “I love you,” he rasped.

A painful silence followed where Jackson didn’t say anything, just looked at Mark, and Mark stared back with tears still in his eyes, flowing down the sides of his face. He didn’t want to wipe them away, even though his pain was acute. It was the only brave act he had committed in a long time, bearing his soul.

Jackson stared a little longer, his face unchanging. He leaned down to wrap his arms around Mark’s waist and rest his head on Mark’s chest. He was tired from dance practice, and listened to Mark’s heartbeats as he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> what do u think happened next lol


End file.
